Category: sports

The number 11 aka the horrible number aka the Rebecca Black of numbers aka nobody wants to see two ones next to each other or aka the equivalent of this…

I needed a little sunshine in my life for this main event. Sip of Sunshine that is. This Lawson’s Finest Liquids specialty was a welcomed addition to the worst WrestleMania ever. The “main event”, quotes were necessary, was Bam Bam Bigelow going up against Lawrence Taylor. Lawrence Taylor is and was at the time a retired football player with no wrestling experience. This same man is in the main event in WrestleMania, and I repeat, no wrestling experience at all. Zero. Nada. Zilch. With fellow WWF superstars and NFL stars surrounding the ring to bring some star power to this monstrosity did little to heighten the drama.

The Sunshine of Sip helped just a little bit as it is another taste of home. I’ve heard a lot about this beer and I will say it’s a wee bit overrated but in the same token is magically delicious. The 8%, as with many NE style IPA’s, is easily drinkable and simply fabulous. I wouldn’t wait three hours in line for this but getting it delivered right to your doorstep, I’ll take it. Always.

Yep. Main event material, don’t you think? The only redeeming quality of this much is that LT is just hammering Bam Bam with stiff blows. No wrestling finesse here, he’s just laying it in with no apologies. After about ten minutes of incessant nonsense Taylor climbs to the second rope to deliver a forearm for the ages and in turn getting the 1…2…3.

No title on the line, poor buildup, and just everything that is wrong was this main event. Luckily for me I had some sunshine to brighten this dark cloud called a match.

With the Beatles reference out of the way, the ninth installment of this wrestling extravaganza was once again a head scratcher. Held in Vegas for the first time, it was all Caesar and Cleopatra, camels, togas and everything in between. The event of the night was Bret Hart, reigning WWF champion, going up against the 505 pound Japan phenom, Yokozuna. Fun fact is that Yokozuna was from Hawaii the whole time, so… fuck me right?

Keeping with the sweetest of water theme is their flagship Pale Ale, 420. I have phases between 420 and the IPA and I just might be back on the Pale bandwagon.

I also had phases between smooth and crunchy peanut butter but that’s beside the point. I can go either way on pale ales but in this case, it’s right up there with the IPA. Weighing in at 5.7 ABV, it has a great hop kick, but with a smoother citrus finish. A green can with a blue top opener thingy, how can you go wrong.

Never expecting a wrestling lesson from a 500+ pounder, so moves were minimal and agility was basically non existent. I’ll give Bret Hart all the credit in the world for carrying (or not carrying) the big monster through this matchup. A missed corner splash lead to a second rope bulldog by the challenger but only a 1 count with an extreme kick out. Using all the brains he can, Hart exposes a turnbuckle, all the while throwing Yokozuna into it. The big man is down and the sharpshooter submission move is in!! Mr. Fuji has a substance in his hand…

It’s salt in the eyes!! Salt in the eyes!!!

Yokuna gets the 1…2…3 and the NEEEEW WWF CHAMPION…YOKOZUNA!!!

In the most shocking (meaning the most unshocking) moment ever, Hulk Hogan comes to the aide of the cheated ex-champion to avenge his loss. Fuji then sets a challenge to the Hulkster to fight Yoko with the title on the line. Spoiler Alert: Hogan gets in and foils the plans of the bad guys and heroingly (totally a word) wins the WWF Championship for the fifth time. The silver lining in this is that I will not utter the name Hogan till WrestleMania 18.

WrestleMania Très held the all time indoor attendance record for a crowd of 93,000+. This number was apparently bullshit but for the sake of wrestling being awesome, I’ll keep it. Andre the Giant had enough of the Hulk Hogan show and wanted his title, which became a match for the ages, that some say was the equivalent of a man riding a shark that is towing three lovely ladies on water skis. If that isn’t a segue then I don’t know what is, which leads me to my southern IPA of choice, River Dog IPA.

(You’ll get the weird reference later, I promise, but in the mean time)

Vote for Me!

With the random Doug reference aside now, let’s get to the beer shall we. I’ve oogled over this brewery in previous posts like River Dog is also Man’s Best Friend, and this one is no different. This IPA is fucking stellar with its citrus hop goodness and just the perfect amount of malt, it’s like a Hogan big boot to your mouth, and I can promise you that’s a good thing. The 6.5 ABV makes it quite crushable and when it’s 80 degrees starting in February, that’s music to my ears, or it’s a cooling breeze on a hot day, or it’s the sound of jingling coins, or whatever the fuck suits your fancy. ﻿

They apparently make them big in the French Alps, as Andre the Giant is here and has never even been body slammed. How can Hulk win???!!

Hulk goes for a slam???!!! And his back gives out and the match is almost over just like that.

Head butt from Andre. Head butt from Andre. Head butt from Andre, followed by a butt womp type maneuver in the corner. Hogan follows it up with clotheslines and Andre won’t go down!! The IPA is flowing and Hogans energy seems to be slowing. The bear hug is on and what??? Hogan punches, Hogan punches, the Silverdome is going wild but Hogan succumbs to the power of the giant once more. Hogan looks done and…

What the fuck?!?! What the fuck?!?! Andre is staggering and Hulk…

…

body slams the five hundred pounder!! Leg drop followed by the 1…2…3!!!

The baby face once again foils the heel and history has been made. Some celebratory IPA’s are in order and four seems like a good number, and also a foreshadowing to another WrestleMania spectacle.

This might be pretty much every weekend but this weekend in particular is a real doozy. Friday, my favorite local brewery River Dog (that I’ve referenced in “River Dog is also Man’s Best Friend“) is having a tap tap tapa-roo takeover at one of my favorite craft spots, Fat Patties. Along with the River Dog deliciousness will be the newly tapped Bells Hopslam, after that lineup will either be the voices in my head or Uber calling my name. ﻿

Saturday nights alright for fighting as well as heading up to Charleston, a burgeoning craft beer destination. After a lovely lunch with my gal and her parents we will magically whisk ourselves to Westbrook Brewing Company, which is a personal favorite of ours. From strong solid ass stouts to some of the greatest goses these lips have ever enjoyed, this a must stop. With breweries popping up everywhere our possibilities are endless and we’ll surely take our time and enjoy all the frothy goodness. This is just the warm up…

Warm up?!?!

Yep, you heard me right. That will be the warmup to Sunday where a little game will commence at about sixish. The motha flippin Super Bowl is upon us and my Pats are vying for their 5th title in their last fifteen years. This will be an interesting year as I’m in so called “Falcons Country” and I’m the self proclaimed ECW of Patriots fans.

(For all you non wrestling nerds, ECW was hardcore wrestling, so I basically took the long and confusing way of calling myself a hardcore fan.)

Not only will I be watching it on a 16 foot video screen, surrounded by Patriots haters, but for $50 it’s all you can eat and drink. Oh lordy…